Good Luck - You'll Need It!
by Daxxers
Summary: This tale is set in the Forgotten Realms (as envisioned by various authors and WOTC), somewhere in Faerun, circa 1370 DR. It takes place in a large, human-dominated city called Capitol and concerns the early adventures of an Elf Rogue. I have not had it Beta read. Hope you enjoy. Constructive criticism is welcome.
1. Chapter 1

**Good Luck. You'll Need It**

 _(Dear Reader – this is a tale set in the Forgotten Realms, somewhere in Faerun, circa 1370 DR. It takes place in a large, human-dominated city I've called Capitol. I have not had it Beta read. Hope you enjoy.)_

 **Chapter 1 – A Request**

Daelynn watched the old woman from across the square. On a whim the young elf had taken a different route home after shopping in a small market she frequented. Stopping to enjoy the warmth of the setting sun, and finishing eating some sweets she had purchased, Daelynn had noticed the older well-dressed woman seated on a bench by a fountain in the center of the small square. The woman called out to the occasional passerby, mostly able bodied men. The few who approached the elderly lady spoke with her for only a moment then, shaking their heads in negation, walked away. After each interaction the woman appeared smaller and more forlorn.

Daelynn was curious, and having a kindly nature she thought she should warn the old lady. The westering sun signaled the end of a day and in this part of Capitol it was best not to be out by oneself after dark. There were patrols, but the City Watch could not be everywhere, and Old Town was not the most respectable of neighborhoods. Being young and full of the optimism and the arrogance of youth, that rule did not apply to Daelynn. Finishing her candy the elf walked over to the woman who looked up at her approach. Daelynn smiled and sat down beside her.

"Grandmother," she said using a title of respect among her people. "It grows late. You should not be out in these mean streets. Can I help you home?"

The elderly human looked at the elf in surprise. "Oh, thank you dear. But I must retrieve my necklace. They stole it!"

"Who stole your necklace?"

"Why those boys. The ones who ran into that building. I am too old to try to reclaim it myself and have asked several people to help me but they seem afraid. It is a favorite trinket of mine. Hardly worth anything."

Daelynn examined the structure at which the old woman had pointed. It was a shabby stone three story building at the far end of the square. Run down with the lower floor windows boarded up and half the upper floor windows shuttered. The others open to the elements. The third floor only had one window at the front. Someone had scrawled runic characters across door and mantle. She recognized the symbols. The mark of the Black-Scars, a local gang.

"Perhaps the City Watch can assist you," suggested Daelynn. "They can be found through that arch and past the market. I can lead you there. They would be best suited to deal with Black-Scars."

"Humph," was the elders reply. "I have heard that the Watch is next to useless in this part of the city. I am an old fool for wandering so far from my house without escort. But it was such a lovely day for a walk."

The old woman appraised Daelynn with bright blue eyes. "You seem like a nice girl. How is it that you know the name of the gang who robbed me? And the location of the Watch post? Do you live near here?"

Daelynn traced her fingers over a long scar that ran along her left forearm, her eyes momentarily focused on something far away in time.

"Um? No, I live on the other side of the Temple quarter, but I have... experience with the Black-Scars. They are mostly boys; a few girls. They spend their nights gambling and drinking; their days are spent in petty theft. Not true Thieves Guild members. Just toughs and pick-pockets. Although some do worse."

"You hold them in contempt."

"Oh, aye. I do. They're a nuisance and a menace. Robbing old people. And children. That takes no skill and brings no honor."

Daelynn stared at the building across the square, her eyes narrowed and hard. The old woman watched the young elf and nodded her head ever so slightly, as if confirming something to herself.

"You are a Moon Elf are you not?" She asked of Daelynn. "Trained in hunting, stealth and magic. Your people wonder the forests, yes?"

Daelynn laughed politely. "Those are Wood Elves. My people prefer more civilized surroundings. But some of us have... talents, such as you mention. Why?"

"Could you get my necklace back for me? You seem to know what goes on in this part of the City. I will pay you. Ten silvers. That is far more than the item is worth but as I said, it has special meaning to me. It is one of my favorites. Perhaps you could purchase it back from these Black-Scars?"

Daelynn looked at the woman with amazement. Ten silvers! That was a pretty amount of coin. More than the monthly allowance from her uncle. The elf stood up gazing intently at the building. A light had appeared in one of the second-floor windows at the east side. So, they were still in there.

The old woman also rose from the bench and was surprised to find that the young elf was much taller than she. The elf maid was dressed in sleeveless blouse and pantaloons, her feet were sandaled and she wore a matching vest. A sash of a silvery metallic appearing material circled her waist. Her icy blue skin was becomingly offset by a mass of wavy black hair. She sported an intricate tattoo of a fish on her right shoulder. The older woman also noted that while overall of a slender build, the sleeveless clothing showed off well-toned arms and shoulders. The elf turned to the woman, a smile on her lips, her eyes a bright violet.

"You have a bargain, Grandmother. I will meet you later tonight at the guard post I mentioned. It won't take long to take back what was stolen. Best you be off and away from these parts."

"Thank you! The necklace is a long silver chain and sports a green, four-leafed clover. It is about this big," she held up her hand indicating that the pendant was about two to three fingers wide. "Oh, thank you...?"

"Daelynn," the elf stated.

"I am Lady Alline. Here, take this with you." Lady Alline pulled out something small from her sleeve. "It is a lucky token from Tymora's temple. I always carry one. Foolish, I know. It brought me little luck today. Well, except for meeting you!"

The elf graciously accepted the silvered disk, a common token used to invoke Tymora, Goddess of Good Luck. She placed it in a small pocket in her sash; a little luck never hurt. She watched the white-haired woman walk briskly across the square and down the street Daelynn had indicated earlier, her gray cloak wrapped close about her. Spry old thing, she thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – The Black-Scar's House**

Daelynn turned and crossed the square in the other direction. Reaching the far side of the square she stepped into the lengthening shadows of buildings, trees and shrubs and worked her way back to the front of the edifice that bore the graffiti of the Black-Scars. Making an entrance through the broken front door would easily be noted by any of the few passersby still out in the square, and she suspected there would be a guard or an alarm set at the front. Daelynn knew from previous encounters with Black-Scars they were street rabble, but not entirely witless.

Slipping along the building's west side she carefully made her way between the Black-Scar building and its neighboring structure. She stopped at the back and peeked around the corner into a rubbish filled yard. A young man, two boys and a girl sat around a small fire. It had only recently been lit as the larger pieces of wood had not yet caught. As the back door was not an option, she retraced her route along the west wall and stopped to stand in the darkest shadow between the two buildings. The path between them was quite narrow. The walls of each structure were of rough stone.

She paused, only now wondering what had taken possession of her. She sympathized with the old lady but why had she offered to help? For reward? To even an old score against the Black-Scars? She had no intention of bartering with them for what was stolen. No good would come of following that path! It wouldn't be too hard to sneak in and steal back what was stolen. She'd done something similar before. Not that she was a thief! She just had... talents... and on occasion had used them to benefit her friends. And herself. The City Watch would not bother about a petty theft. No one would. Only Daelynn could help. And there was that reward!

She placed a hand on each wall, then lifted her right foot and placed it against the wall that her right hand was on. Bracing herself she lifted her left foot and placed it on the wall against which her left hand was pressed. Pressing in to the walls of the two buildings while alternately moving her hands and feet upwards a few inches at a time, she climbed. She passed the boarded windows of the first floor and she soon drew even with an open second floor window. She peered inside but could not see anything. Everything was dark and quiet.

The strain of holding herself against the walls was causing her to perspire. She knew that soon her arms or legs would begin to shake and that meant a fall of near thirty feet to the ground below. Breathing deeply she steadied herself, climbed a few feet further up, then placed her left foot on the window sill. She reached through the window with her left arm, slid it along the window frame and found a purchase on the upper part of the sill. She quickly reached her right hand across the gap and grabbed the sill. Turning her body, she brought her right leg across, bent low and pulled herself through the window into the dark room.

She sat beneath the window breathing hard, a lock of dark wavy hair falling over her eyes. She had done climbs like that many times, either in abandoned buildings with friends or on the training ground directed by her father or the monks, and at the gymnasium at the College of Heralds. Such a climb should not leave her shaking like this! It took a few minutes for her breathing to return to normal and that time allowed her elven night vision to adjust to the darkness. Except for a few pieces of broken furniture, the room was empty. Recovered from her climb Daelynn crept across the room to the door. It was made of wood and had a simple latch. She placed her ear against it, focusing her hearing. She sorted through the many small sounds an old building presented. The skittering of rodents, creaking of timbers, sighing of stone. Hearing no other sounds beyond she lifted the latch and pulled at the door. It was near to halfway open when one of its hinges squeaked loudly in protest. She immediately stopped, closed her eyes and focused her hearing again. Nothing. She slipped out of the room, leaving the door ajar, and looked around, heart pounding.

Daelynn was in a dim hallway with several doorways along one side and a balustrade on the other. Beyond the balusters the building interior was open. A peristyle or a gallery, she thought. She stepped to the railing and looked across the open space. She could see another balustrade on the far side and assumed that a good portion of the building's second floor opened onto this interior gallery. Thin columns rose from the first floor, passed the second floor and supported the balustrade, then reached up to a high vaulted ceiling. So, no third floor, she noted.

The first-floor room below her was lit by two feeble lanterns, one on each of the room's longer walls. The room was about ten yards wide and twenty yards long. Draperies hung against the far wall and extended from the second level to the floor of the first level. She looked over the balustrade and saw the same decoration covered the wall immediately below her. There was a wooden door on the south wall. The north end of the room was recessed. In the dim light she could not make out any other features.

Further examination was interrupted by the sound of a door closing and the echo of footsteps on stone stairs. Dim light glowed to her left. Both light and sound grew as she watched. The elf moved along the hallway to the right, away from the growing light. She tried a door but it refused to open. She moved farther down the hallway and slipped into a shallow alcove that may at one time have held statuary. Peeking out from the alcove Daelynn saw the head and shoulders of a man rise from the floor at the south end of the second-floor hallway. He was carrying a small torch in one hand and must have been climbing up a stairway. The young elf ducked back into the alcove and tried to calm her breathing, which was had become fast and shallow. Calm down girl, she told herself.

His footsteps drew closer. Her hand stole down to her sash in which she kept two of the throwing stars given to her by her father. The footsteps stopped. She judged that the man was even with the door she had opened earlier. The door creaked as it was closed and she heard the latch fall into place. Just a guard making his rounds, securing doors. Perhaps he would return the way he had come? No, the light continued to grow as the guard advanced up the hallway toward her hiding place.

The guard had been following his routine patrol. The open door on the second floor was a bit odd, but some of younger gang members were lax when it came to keeping the house secure. He'd mention it to Braxes after the service. He was almost even with one of the alcoves when he spied a metal object lying on the floor. He stooped to look at it more closely. It was star shaped and like nothing he had seen before. As he reached down to pick it up Daelynn struck.

Spinning out from the alcove into the hallway the elf kicked at the guard's unprotected head. Not a kick as a child or youth would kick a ball but a front snap kick as her father had taught her. The guard stumbled sideways, dropping the torch. Shaking his head, trying to focus, he sensed more than saw someone beside him. He reached towards the figure only to have his arm grabbed, wrist locked and body pulled forward. He felt himself lifted and thrown down on to the hard stone floor, his breath knocked out of him.

Daelynn followed up her hip throw with a closed fist blow, again to the guard's head. The man went limp and lay still. Daelynn was breathing fast and felt light-headed. She leaned against the wall, the cool stone reviving her. What now? She wanted to run, to get out of this house and back to the safety of the streets. This was nothing like what she thought it would be. Ten silvers were not enough for this! She was terrified, except for that part of her that was thrilled and impressed that she had remembered her training.

Pushing her hair back out of her face she picked up her shuriken from the floor, grabbed the man's legs and with some difficulty dragged him down the hallway to the door he had just closed. She stopped, dropped his legs, and opened the door as far as she felt it safe to do so. No creaking this time. She dragged him into the room then returned briefly to the hall to retrieve the fallen torch. Setting it into a wall sconce she closed the door and examined her prey.

It was a human youth, perhaps seventeen years old, maybe a little older. Taller than her and lanky. She noticed the jagged black mark on the back of his left hand. The mark of a full member of the Black-Scar gang. A full Black-Scar tattoo was not given out to a member unless they had committed at least four crimes, one of which was the stabbing or cutting of an innocent. She checked his person for coin but found none. She was no thief, but to live well in Capitol a girl needed more coin than her guardian allowed her. She removed a long, sharp dagger from his belt and used it to cut strips of his own clothing that she then used to bind and gag him.

She used another strip to tie back her hair. It was now out of the way and covered her elven ears. In the dark and even in dim torch light her skin could pass for a white skinned human's but there was no denying her facial features were elven. She should have thought of this before entering the building. The guard she had knocked out had not seen her, but she may not be so lucky again. Using more cloth from the bound youth she fashioned a crude mask. A cloak would have been a welcome addition.

As there was no bucket in which to douse the torch she left it burning. Once again she entered the hallway and stood listening intently.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 – Treasure and Terror**

 **(DTP 2016)**

Daelynn moved to the south end of the second floor checking the doors as she passed them. Two were locked and the third emitted a terrible groan when she attempted to open it. At the far south end she came to the staircase the guard had ascended. Light shone up from the first floor and she could hear the muted drone of conversation. She peered over the lip of the uppermost stair and saw that the stairs ended in a small anteroom. The lower legs and feet of a person were visible standing still with their back to a door that, she reasoned, opened to the large, empty first floor room with the wall hangings. At least two people were down there in a brightly lit, small room. No chance of a safe exit that way.

She was about to circle the stairwell and check out the far side of the second floor when she heard new voices from below. Some people entered the anteroom, approaching the stair case. She quickly scuttled backwards and ran on tip-toe down the hall to stand outside the door of the one room she knew she could enter.

No one came up the stairs. Instead they entered the large first floor room. Gliding to the balustrade she carefully looked down. A man and a boy of no more than twelve or thirteen, were walking to the north end of the room. The shabbily dressed boy was handing the man a small sack and seemed to be in the middle of explaining something which the man, of about thirty years of age, had no interest in hearing.

"Grit, you disappoint me, again. This is hardly enough to turn away Our Lady's displeasure. Bad things happen to those who refuse to acknowledge her power. You have seen that, felt that, yourself. Drink and drugs are making the Black-Scars lazy! When I was a Scar we had discipline. Did you know that in my father's day most Scars eventually became Guild members? Today the Guild recruits few of you. But now you have a chance to be something more, if you follow the Lady! Bad luck is everywhere waiting to happen, to be unleashed on anyone, anytime. Lady Doom can keep it from happening. For a price. That price is your obedience. And part of that obedience is to understand that your gain is the Lady's gain. So, what you have offered up to Her had better be all that has been collected!"

The man leaned over the youth during his harangue, using force of words and his greater physical stature to intimidate the boy. Grit nervously nodded, stammered out what sounded like an apology, reached in to his tunic and pulled out an item, holding it out to the man. All that Daelynn could see was that it appeared to be a silver chain with a green pendant.

"Ha! It appears, young Grit, that you robbed a Tymoran. The Maid of Misfortune will smile on us tonight. Excellent work!"

"Thank you Braxes," stammered the youth.

"But you should not have held this back from me." And with those words the man cuffed the boy a solid blow across his head sending the child to his knees. The youth stood up expecting another such blow but none came. The man seemed more intrigued by the pendant than causing additional pain.

Strike a child? She absently traced the scar on her arm with a finger. Daelynn glared at the man. The boy and man moved into the recessed part of the room and out of Daelynn's field of view. She could hear what sounded like a chant. Light now spilled out of the recess. She gathered that new lanterns or candles had been lit. Candles most likely, as the new light flickered, suggesting a flame open to the air and not shielded. Braxes and Grit left the recess and slowly walked to the south door.

With the increased lighting Daelynn could better distinguish details. The man's features were unremarkable but oddly familiar. He was clean shaven, dark haired, and wore a loose, dark red tunic over what appeared to be well-tailored street clothes. He sported an odd necklace that consisted of a leather strip supporting what appeared to be a short, gnarled black stick. She noticed that both Grit and Braxes had black jagged tattoos on their back of their left hands; Braxes' being larger and more elaborate.

"Remember Grit. Use fear of misfortune, not force, to extort gifts for the Lady. We gather for the service after the gong has struck twice," she heard Braxes remind the youth just before the door closed, cutting off any further opportunity for her to listen to the conversation between the two human males.

Daelynn had not seen either of the two carrying the small bag or necklace when they had left the room, so she surmised that the stolen goods had been left in the recess. As the stairs and doorway were guarded she would have to find another way down to the first floor.

The heavy draperies provided her that route. They hung as banners from two sides of the second floor. She examined the drapery fastenings and saw that they were secure, attached by chains to the balustrade. Slipping over the side of the balustrade the elf grasped the outer edge of the heavy drape intending on using it as a rope to climb down to the first floor. She had only progressed a few feet when her sandaled feet slipped off the smooth stone wall. Her full weight was now suspended by her hands clutching a bunched piece of heavy fabric. She stared to slip.

This was nothing like using a rope! She grasped the drape even more tightly with her right hand, let go with her left hand and quickly drew the dagger she had liberated from the guard. Her right hand could not hold on much longer. She stuck the knife in to the heavy fabric just above her head. It held. She sighed in relief.

Twisting from side to side she tried to look around and assess how best to proceed. As she twisted to the left more of her weight was placed on her dagger hand. The increased weight on the sharp blade overcame the friction of the heavy drape on the blade and it cut through the fabric. Her slide downwards started again. Frantically clutching at the drape, her weight shifting from side to side, she continued to fall with a haphazard, jerky motion as the blade alternately cut and caught on the heavy material. Her momentum could not be checked. She slid all the way to the first floor, losing her grip on the fabric several feet from the bottom. She landed on her left side with a solid 'whump', almost crying out in pain and frustration.

Slowly getting to her feet she rubbed her left haunch knowing that her ass would be black and blue for weeks after such a hard landing. No alarm had sounded; no one opened a door to investigate. Her crash to the first floor had not been heard. Thank the Smiling Lady! Limping over to the banner she used the knife to finish cutting the slit in the drape. By twisting the foot-wide strip of fabric that now hung free of the banner she created a makeshift rope, the top of which was still attached to the banner support and balustrades above. Good. At least there was now a way to get back to the second floor.

She made her way to the recessed section of the room, pausing only to shutter the lanterns on the east and west walls. Darkness was an ally. The recess was a large alcove some five or six yards wide and the same in depth. Against the far wall was a low table covered in black cloth. On the table was an empty sack, its contents spread out across the table - coins and cheap jewelry. In the middle of the table was the necklace Grit had passed to Braxes.

A dozen large candles set around the table gave light. On the far wall and above the table a large piece of red painted wood, cut to resemble a shield, was hung. An odd assortment of black sticks was grouped together and had been fastened to it. Ignoring the Black-Scars décor Daelynn advanced to the table and picked up the necklace. This was no worthless trinket of only sentimental value. The workmanship was exquisite, the silver of highest quality and the green stone that had been carved in the likeness of a shamrock was a semiprecious jewel! Lady Alline had suggested that the ten silvers she was to pay Daelynn was more than the necklace was worth. Ha! Daelynn had wandered the markets in Capitol when she had time and money to spend and eyed many a beautiful piece of jewelry. The price for this necklace would be closer to fifty silvers!

The Lady Alline, Daelynn could not help but think of her now as the elf's client, had some explaining to do. The other coin and baubles on the table might amount to a quarter the price of Alline's necklace. On impulse Daelynn collected everything on the table and placed it back in the small sack, tying it to her sash. The necklace she would not risk losing, so placed it around her neck and under her blouse.

With her task competed Daelynn took one last look around the recess before leaving, paying slightly greater attention to her surroundings now that she had safely retrieved her prize. She saw that the odd collection of sticks on the wall were antlers that had been painted black. The red of the shield that formed the background to them was the same red as Braxes' tunic. She wondered if that odd pendant he wore was a stick, bone or piece of antler like she was looking at. The cloth covered table and candle placement was odd. It had the look of an...

 _Udún!_ she swore. Her head snapped up, her eyes focused on the antlers, the shield. She quickly recalled all that she had heard between Grit and Braxes. She had thought that references to 'Lady Doom' and the 'Maid of Misfortune' was to a female leader of the Black-Scars. But the black antlers? Chanting? Talk of a 'service'? The table was an altar! She was in a shrine! A shrine to the Goddess of Misfortune. And she had just stolen an offering from the altar of a dark god. Oh, she was screwed.

Why had she taken on this job? To defy the Black-Scars? To avenge a past injury? To show off? For money? Tears brightened her eyes and her mind was awhirl. What to do? What to do?

She fumbled for the coin that Alline had given her for 'luck'. It was no cheap token presented to pilgrims or the superstitious. It was real silver. Well minted. The Lady of Luck's smiling face shown in fine detail with four small shamrocks surrounding it. In the presence of the dark shrine in which it found itself, the coin glowed. Damn!

She had to put everything back! Alline would understand. She seemed a kindly lady, she…. was a Tymoran. Braxes had said that. Had he meant a follower of Tymora or something more? Tymoran's often wore lucky four-leaf clovers or jewelry fashioned to look like one. She looked at the coin again. Was it her imagination, a trick of the light? The finely crafted face of the Lady Who Smiles seemed to wink at her. On the obverse of the coin, in small script, were the words 'Bless those who take risks.'

She remembered some of her Temple learning: Tymorans taught that risk was rewarded. That was the reason Tymora was worshiped by adventurers and merchants. Wasn't 'aid the daring' one of their catchphrases? Well, what more daring a thing was there than defiling a rival's place of worship?

Her breathing calmed. There was a way out of this. Tymora and … what was Her sister's name? Beshaba! The two goddesses were twins; good luck and bad luck. They'd cancel each other out, leaving Daelynn's fate up to Daelynn. Or so the elf reasoned. The pride and arrogance of a young woman, who had not yet learned the many hard lessons life still had in store, rose to the surface. Ignoring goddesses, then Black-Scars and a middle-aged man were all that stood between the elf maid and freedom. She'd leave here and collect her reward, if she decided to return the necklace. That would teach Lady Alline a lesson! As for Beshaba? Daelynn had heard much about her over the years, none of it good. If Braxes' instruction to Grit was to be believed, then Beshaba required a payment so that bad things did not happen. "Protection" money. Extortion. Pathetic! A goddess no more honorable than a criminal gang. The innate sense of injustice that many young people felt was strong in Daelynn. And Braxes striking a child? Her anger boiled over. She turned to Lady Doom's symbol hanging on the wall. It no longer loomed over her as a harbinger of dread. Perhaps the young elf went too far, but how much worse could it be for a being who broke into a shrine, attacked its goddess's faithful, and stole an offering?

"Bitch!" Daelynn, muttered under her breath.

She drew her blade and hurled it at the dark symbol. The knife struck hard and true, breaking off a large piece of antler and embedding itself in the supporting wood. Replacing Tymora's coin in her belt Daelynn turned her back to the shrine and quickly ran to the dangling piece of fabric she had cut free from the banner. She twisted the material tightly in her hands and stared to climb her makeshift rope. Her feet kept slipping on the stone wall but she found enough strength in her arms to haul herself up to the second floor. As she stopped to catch her breath she realized that she had another hard climb back down the outside of the building. She pulled up the long, foot wide strip of drapery. Drawing her shuriken, she used its sharp blade to cut across the drape, trying to free it from the rest of the banner and its supporting chains. She'd use the drape to climb down the side of the building.

At least that was her plan. Cutting across the fabric's warp proved much harder than cutting along it. She sawed at the material industriously for a few minutes, wishing she had not wasted a good knife in her fit of temper. A gong sounded. Twice. The service! They'd all be coming! She had only a few strands left to part when the door below opened.

Braxes, escorted by two tall youths, a boy and a girl, entered. He had his hands clasped in front of him, head bowed. They walked slowly toward the altar. The young people each moved to one of the lanterns on the wall and opened the shutters, substantially increasing the light in the first-floor room. They then quickly joined Braxes in the recess. No one had noticed the ragged banner. Once they had passed Daelynn's position she frantically continued to cut at the drape. It was almost free!

A shout from below indicated that her removal of the offerings had been discovered.

"Theft! It's all gone. What? Defilement too!" Braxes roared.

Someone at the doorway had noticed the rippling of the banner as Daelynn cut the last threads holding down the strip of fabric she needed.

"Master! Above you. Someone is in the House!"

Braxes ran into the center of the room and looked around, his face like a dark threatening cloud about to burst. The girl who had accompanied him saw Daelynn as she scrambled to gather up her makeshift rope.

"There, Master!" She pointed to the elf. "Second floor, west, above the banner!"

"Defiler!" Screamed Braxes.

Daelynn looked down at the man. He was making a peculiar gesture with his right hand, his left hand holding the odd pendant. She was now certain that it was a piece of black antler, like that above the altar. A holy symbol. He was calling upon his dark deity and casting a spell! Daelynn threw herself to one side seeking safety behind a pillar. A strange crackling sound filled the air beside her, then abruptly faded.

"Get him!" Roared the Cleric.

The Black-Scar gang had been slow to react but on their master's command they all sought to apprehend the intruder. If they had entered the narrow stairway one at a time they might have caught her, but jammed together, each trying to outdo the other, none made it up the stairs before Daelynn had retreated to the room through which she had first entered the accursed gang house.

She slammed the door closed knowing that she had seconds before the howling gang of Black-Scars and the terrifying Braxes were upon her. There was no bar for the door. The torch was still lit and she could see several small objects and broken furniture scattered on the floor around her. She grabbed an odd-shaped piece of metal and jammed it into the door latch. Frantic pounding on the door startled her and she jumped back, tripping over the body of the still unconscious guard.

Braxes wasted no time trying to wade through the excited gang in the anteroom and on the stairway. He bowed his head, clutched his holy symbol and muttered a prayer. The next moment he floated upwards to the second level alighting by the pillar that had shielded the intruder from his first spell. Several yards down the hallway a strapping member of the gang was pounding on a door with the pommel of a sword. Putting their shoulders to the door Braxes and the gang member forced the door open, almost tearing it off its frame. They entered a near empty room lit by a feeble torch. Against the far wall, under the window, lay a twitching body. They ran forward and saw the reason for the body's odd movements. A piece of fabric had been tied around it. The fabric was draped over the window sill. Looking out they saw a shadowy figure clambering down the long strand. With nothing in the room to tie off to, the intruder was using the guard's body as an anchor; the tugs and jerks on the makeshift rope caused by the climber's rapid descent made the living anchor twitch. Before Braxes could caution him, the young tough raised his sword above his head and brought it down on the fabric rope where it ran over the sill, cutting it cleanly. The intruder dropped several feet to the ground, landing with a distinct thud. The intruder stood up apparently unharmed and ran to the rear of the house.

Braxes glared at the young man. "Now how do you propose to follow him? Idiot!"

The young man cursed, turned back and shouted at the crowd who had followed him into the small room.

"Get going. He's running out back! Quick!"

As the room emptied Braxes stepped to the sill and jumped out into the void between the two buildings. He slowly floated to the ground, landing softly. He ran to the rear of the house, rounding the corner several seconds before some gang members came streaming out of the house waving weapons and shouting. But it was too late. The yard and adjacent properties were empty, dark and quiet. The defiler was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 – Payment**

Daelynn sprinted through darkened yards, hurdling stone fences and other objects, intent on reaching the safety of the well-lit market with its guard post. Her fall from the window – she assumed someone had unkindly cut her 'rope' – was not far but she had scraped against the rough stones of the adjacent building. Her right arm was now raw and red. She heard the cries of the Black-Scars behind her but they grew fainter as she ran. One last fence. There, she was at the edge of the market. She stopped suddenly. Almost forgot her mask! She threw it to the ground and walked unhurriedly into the crowd.

Black-Scars often worked the evening crowds in the square, picking pockets or brazenly lifting articles from shop stands. She could not be sure that all the gang members had been at the 'service'. Those in the market would soon be altered by the others chasing her and a search would begin. She had to make sure she did not draw any attention to herself. Think small, be unobtrusive, don't stand out, hide!

Wait, that was wrong! Her uncles' words came to her. Something about the 'law of opposites'. It had to do with a business deal he had mentioned to a companion who was visiting their house. Something about doing the opposite of what was expected of you as it confused one's enemies.

So, not small, big. Not quiet, loud? It made an odd sort of sense to her. The Scars would be looking for someone in hiding, shielding their face, screening themselves behind vendor's stalls, not wanting to stand out. So, do not be hidden, be obvious. But she could not show herself in her current state, bloodied and disheveled. From the first vendor she saw that sold clothes she acquired a cheap, gaudy robe. It covered her clothing and injured arm. She removed the cord from her hair, shaking out her locks and letting the wavy mass, or wondering mess as her mother termed it, settle on her shoulders. At the next stall she purchased a basket and filled it with fruit and a few vegetables. She continued to stroll through the market, in no apparent hurry but always making her way to the far side where the guard post was located.

Her next stop was at metal worker's stall where she purchased a small, good quality dagger. Just in case she was confronted by a Scar. Her shuriken were excellent throwing weapons, meant more for distraction than damage, and of limited use in a hand-to-hand fight. She slipped the blade into her sash beneath the robes just as a few Black-Scars passed her.

They were looking intently at the crowd, under stalls and behind curtains, much to the annoyance of sellers and customers. It was a strain to not look at the Scars who pushed their way through the throng of evening shoppers. Daelynn stopped at a stall selling meats and cheeses. It was the last stall before the small stone and wood guard post near the gate that led to the Temple Quarter. She bartered with the vendor for a moment then selected a brick of cheese. All this right beside a Scar! Since entering the market she had spent close to three silvers on her ruse, using the coin she had stolen from Beshaba's shrine. A delicious deceit!

The Scar beside her looked her over quickly then moved on. Daelynn ambled over to the guard house and walked up to a bored looking, grizzled officer. She told him that she was looking for a friend, an older woman with bright blue eyes, white hair, about so tall with a gray cloak. They had planned to meet near here but she could not find her friend and it was getting late. Perhaps he had noticed her?

He replied in the affirmative. A woman matching that description had been by a while ago and paid him a silver to deliver a message to a young elf, should she ask about her. It was a one word message, "Broskers".

Broskers was small shop in the temple complex that served kava. Daelynn nodded her thanks and walked out of the market, through the gate and into the temple neighborhood. Wisps of fog were gathering and there was a chill in the air. Evening had turned to night. The temple complex was huge and busy; it took more than a quarter-hour for her to make her way across it. The temples and shrines in the complex were brightly lit and would stay that way for a few hours. Some temples, depending on their deity's preference, stayed open and lit all night long but most closed their doors by midnight. By the time she reached her destination fog had settled on Capitol making the streets gray, misty and damp. As she entered the shop her nose was assailed by the strong heady aroma of roasted kava. She ordered a small cup of the dark brew and sat at a grimy table by the window. She sipped at the hot drink which she detested as much as her mother loved. How could a drink with such a wonderful aroma taste so bitter?

There was no sign of Lady Alline. There were only a few customers in the shop at this hour. She sat a little longer and managed to force down a few more mouthfuls. Movement on the street caught her attention. Two young men walked by the shop. Their attention seemed to be focused across the broad avenue. One of the men had a Black-Scar tattoo on his left hand! Had they followed her? She had been so careful. She watched as they turned and walked back toward the shop. Her heart beat faster; her eyes widened. They passed the door of the shop, their attention again focused on something across the way. She looked out the grubby window wondering what attracted their gaze. Almost hidden in thickening fog she saw the outlines of Tymora's Temple.

Of course! Daelynn was certain that Lady Alline was a worshiper of Tymora. This place was close by and could be observed from the Temple. As to the presence of the Scars? Braxes had probably assumed that any intruder, or what had he screamed at her? Defiler. Any defiler was a Tymoran or in their pay. The Scars were likely here to watch for any person entering the temple who matched the description of the intruder of Beshaba's shrine. They would only have a general description to follow. However, she knew she had been noticed by other Scars in the market. It was hard not to notice Daelynn; tall, willowy, with ice blue skin, a mass of raven tresses, and violet eyes, she often caught the attention of human males, and some females. And the robe she wore was gaudy enough to be remembered. A girl at a market by a Black-Scar House who also went to evening service at Tymora's Temple was no great coincidence, but considering what was at stake the Scars or Braxes himself might investigate. She would have to change her appearance, again.

Looking around the shop she noticed a long gray cloak hanging on a peg near the door. Turning, she regarded the people drinking kava seated at another table. They appeared to be a father and daughter. Their cloaks or capes were draped over their chairs. So, to whom did the gray cloak belong? Daelynn left her purchased goods at the table and walked over to it. Examining it she noticed a few white hairs on the collar and hood. Holding it up to her nose she smelled something floral. A woman's scent. She caught the proprietor watching her. She returned his stare only to be met with a wink and slow nod. He then turned away and busied himself at his counter. Needing no more encouragement Daelynn doffed the bright robe and donned the gray cloak. Raising the hood and tightening the cloak about her Daelynn stepped out into the night.

She headed directly to Tymora's temple. Just another worshiper who stopped for a hot drink on a cool evening on way to temple. She made her way across the slick stone flagging. Not too fast, not too slow. Her leg and back were stiffening up. It was torture not to be able to run, to flee the streets for a sanctuary. Mounting the stairs she stopped at the open doors and dropped a few coppers into the alms box. An inner set of doors were closed against the damp night air. Standing in the vestibule before them was a minor temple functionary. He opened the door for her, mumbling a blessing. She politely nodded and entered.

Tymora's Temple was not small. Other gods and goddesses, such as Selune and Ilmater, had larger temples. The Triune God's was immense. But Tymora did not compete with these gods for the grandest temple. Hers was of modest size.

The main portion of the temple was a high-vaulted nave with a quire situated to each side. The altar was low, simple and covered by a white tabard. Four-leafed clovers were everywhere; carved on pillars, branded on to pews, stitched on banners. A stained-glass window, now lit by candles, was positioned above the altar. It featured the goddess's smiling face, radiating power, happiness and a homey beauty.

Tymora bestowed Luck. Her adherents happily donated to her coffers when times were good, thanking her for their good fortune; and when times were bad they less happily, but still readily, offered more to bring back Good Luck. It was said that a significant part of the Temple's fortunes was supplied by adventurers and merchants who had made or found great treasures, given in thanks for successful ventures.

Thuribles hung over aisles releasing a pleasant aroma. Two or three dozen parishioners sat, knelt or stood in prayer throughout the nave. At the front of the temple, behind the altar were several radiating chapels. Daelynn moved to the side then worked her way to the front by a secondary aisle. Her leg and arm ached. Her normal confident walk was now a tired limp. Approaching the altar Daelynn peered into the small chapels leading off the apse. Each was lit by a lantern or two, held a few pews, a small hearth, and a Tymoran relic. In the third one was a small, white haired woman standing, head bowed in prayer. Lady Alline in contemplation. Daelynn moved quietly into the chapel moving along the side wall, not wanting to interrupt her.

Alline had left orders not to be disturbed. The spell she was controlling required concentration. It was not easy to enshroud a city in fog and have it appear to be a natural phenomenon. Already other divine forces were attempting to call up winds to disburse what she hoped was sufficient cover for her agent to safely gain Tymora's refuge. She glanced to her side and beheld a hooded, gray cloaked figure. She smiled and released the spell, allowing natural and unnatural winds to slowly move the mist from Capitol's streets.

The elf maid spoke first. "Lady Alline? Or is it Mistress Alline? Greetings."

"Greetings Daelynn. Mistress is more correct," replied the Tymoran priestess. "I was getting worried child. Is all well? You have not been harmed?"

Daelynn's snarky reply about being tricked into stealing from another goddess caught in her throat. She just now realized that she was safe. That it was over. She tore the cloak off, threw it on the ground and sank onto a small pew. She was exhausted. Tyr's left hand but her arm hurt. Her back, butt and left leg ached. She started to cry. No hysterical sobbing, just a little soft weeping. Alline sat beside her watching closely as the Moon elf gathered herself, wiped away a few tears and removed the pendant from around her neck. Making no excuse for her release of physical and emotional fatigue the elf handed the necklace to the priestess.

"I believe you now owe me ten silvers?"

Mistress Alline smiled again, accepted the piece, placing it over her own head.

"Thank you Daelynn. I see that you are injured. Wait a moment."

The priestess stood and moved to the hearth. She removed a small kettle from the coals and poured a dark liquid into a large cup. She returned and offered it to the elf. Taking it Daelynn sniffed at it, then sipped it.

"Is this a healing potion?" she asked.

"It is tea," replied Alline. "But this will heal you".

Alline laid her left hand on Daelynn's shoulder and her right hand on the elf's opposite knee. A warm, tingling sensation spread through Daelynn's tired body. Pain, numbness, aches, all faded. Her arm looked as good as new! The elf sat up straight, flexing her shoulders and stretching her neck out. Amazing! She had felt nothing like it, except once perhaps when she had fallen from a horse while learning to ride. Her father had touched her the same way and made the pain go away.

"Now, tell me of your adventure."

Daelynn related what had transpired since agreeing to retrieve 'Lady Alline's' property. Mistress Alline was more than surprised. She was shocked. She had Daelynn repeat parts of her story again and asked her several times to describe the shrine and Braxes.

"Young elf, I apologize. We had no idea that the street gang who stole my pendant was so closely affiliated with that dark goddess. That some members were Beshabans is not surprising. But a shrine? We knew there were at least three in the city but never suspected one at that location. You know that worship of dark gods is forbidden in Capitol? But there are always adherents to such deities and their shrines arise from time to time. To enter such a place, steal its offerings and desecrate its unholy symbol? And guarded by a man like Braxes... Well, that is task for a Paladin, a fighting priest, or... never mind. What I am saying is that I would not have asked you to enter there if I had known. Again, my heartfelt apologies."

The elf was not sure what to say in response. Alline seemed sincere about the apology and visibly upset by what Daelynn had related. The mention of Braxes' name recalled some of her concerns about the evening's adventure.

"Am I in trouble with this Beshaba? Will a goddess try to hurt me? And that man, Braxes. What was he? He seemed to command the Black-Scars and I think he called a curse upon me! What is to happen?"

The young woman's eyes were wide and she clutched Alline's hand tightly, but it was from reasonable concern, not terror, that she asked those questions. The priestess rushed to assure the elf that no dark goddess was out to avenge the desecration.

"Shrines and temples, while dedicated to a god or goddess, are the responsibility of the presiding priest. It is their function to protect it. Braxes failed in that and it is he who would suffer any retribution from his goddess. Of course, he will want to avenge such an egregious insult to his faith. But as he does not know who carried out that daring raid he is powerless to hurt you. I will make certain that no word about what happened at the Black-Scar house is spoken here, and that talk about it will be heard on the street, say in the Red-Scars territory? That will suggest a rival gang was involved."

Daelynn nodded her head. Her fears were not entirely assuaged, but they were at least somewhat mollified. "Who's Braxes?"

"He is devout follower of that dark goddess you mentioned. By the way Daelynn, we do not refer to her by her name in this temple. If she must be referred to, call her 'the Bad Sister'. From your description of his dress, manner and spell casting I can tell that he is a cleric of that misguided faith. Have no fear. You were not cursed. Whatever spell or orison he unleashed had no effect. Fortunately for you he is likely not too powerful a divine, or perhaps the lucky coin I gave you worked?"

With that suggestion Daelynn pulled out the token and examined it closely. Had one of the four shamrocks been blackened before? She held the coin out for Alline to see. The cleric looked at it, nodded, and wrapped her hands around Daelynn's, pressing the coin into the elf's palm.

"Best you hold on to that," was Mistress Alline's only comment. "Speaking of coin, I believe I owe you this?"

Alline produced a small pouch, jiggled it, making the coins inside tinkle, and handed it to the elf. Daelynn took her reward, hiding it away in her sash. The elf understood that their business was finished and stood to go. Alline handed her the plain gray cloak.

"It is cool out. Take this. You can return it when next you attend Temple."

Daelynn smiled, flung the cloak over her shoulders and strode out of the chapel. Alline watched the young elf walk boldly down the temple's main aisle and out the front doors.

"You heard," she asked?

A shadow detached itself from the far wall of the chapel and moved toward the priestess. Stepping into the light of the lanterns a man approached Alline. He was past middle-age, gray of head and lined of face, but held himself tall and walked with a confident step.

"'Tis not ma hearin' that fails me Preceptress. 'Tis ma eyes and ma strength."

"You seem well enough Roland."

"Today pr'haps, but odder days..."

Preceptress Alline, Matriarch of the Tymoran Church and highest ranking cleric of the faith in the East smiled with affection at one of her oldest friends and her most valued ally. She nodded in the direction of the departed elf.

"You will follow her home? See that she arrives safely?"

"'Course," the man replied, offering a small bow to Alline.

"Roland. We should have known about that shrine. The recovery of the necklace was only meant as a test. She could have been killed."

"What's the term the Kossuthan's use? A 'baptism by fire'? Still you doubt after t'night? That young woman s'what we need. What you need. What Tymora needs." The man offered in his sing-song, lilted speech.

"I do not doubt that our Goddess, The Smiling Lady, favors her. But it is my decision, not yours, as to her progressing any further along the path!"

Roland regarded the woman whose words were his life, perhaps even more than Tymora's. He bowed again, a little more deeply this time.

"I'll see 'er home, safe. But know this Ma'am. Ma time ends, soon. I can feel it. She's the best candidate we've found since we lost Braxes."

With those words of warning, Roland, the aging Divine Seeker of the Tymoran Church, and the Preceptress's personal assassin, stepped back into the shadows vanishing from Alline's sight. The Preceptress stroked her pendant, lips pursed, brow furrowed.

'Goddess, grant me strength', she prayed, 'and watch out for the young elf'.

\- END -


End file.
